The Silver Wings
by C V Ford
Summary: The war rumored about over and without a plane, the possibility of Bruno Stachels' accomplishing enough aerial victories for being awarded the coveted Blue Max medal now less than zero ... Or is it? A chance encounter of ruthless pilot meets ruthless mage in this re-write of several scenes from the film, The Blue Max.


The Silver Wings

by

C V Ford

xxxxx

Unified Year 1925

There was no quiet on the Rhine Front.

xxxxx

"Oil pressures' still too low!"

The staffels' chief mechanic looked up from the oil pump and engine hatches toward the speaker outside the plane leaning over into the cockpit.

"That's all you're gonna' get out of her," chief mechanic trying to be heard over the engines' shakey throb. "She wasn't built yesterday!"

"Really? ... So that's what it is!" Wry smile on the pilots' face.

Engine cut the two men met at the aircrafts' tail.

"Leutnant Stachel," Sergeant Ziegel began, "what you're asking right now is out of the question."

"Say again?" Look of skepticism on the face of the pilot.

"We're too far forward."

"But-"

"As you know, the ground forces advance had us packing up only the most rudimentary supplies of parts and equipment in order for us to keep up. This pasture is hardly what I'd call a landing strip let alone an airfield-"

"Can't we-"

"Under ideal conditions I and some of the others could pull an all-nighter and replace the engine. Here ... " Shrug of shoulders.

"But surely-"

"There are other more repairable planes here that I need to get back in the air ... FAST. I'm afraid there's going to be a wait ... A long one if more come in with damage ... And there will."

Though Ziegel to be of inferior rank, Stachel knew that the voice of the chief mechanic was the voice of GOD and priority took precedence.

"Tell you what Herr Leutnant," noting the officers' despondence. "I'll go to Herr Rittmeister and see if he can get you to ferry this flying scrapheap back to the aerodrome. There's a thin chance a more serviceable aircraft would be available to you."

Bruno decided in favor of that long shot.

xxxxx

_I'm comfortable in the air-_

Leutnant Bruno Stachel frowned on recall of that statement of his when, fresh out of 104 Training School, was asked by Rittmeister Otto Heidemann on his joining Squadron 11.

His mixed feelings of disappointment at circumstantial inability of achieving more and the war, if rumored soon coming to an end, rankled.

On enlistment almost three years ago he applied to the Air Korps in hopes of becoming a pilot. Hopes dashed on immediate placement in the infantry. There were more than enough applicants at the time and they put warm, many soon to be cold, bodies where thought needed.

After almost two years of the bloody Great Stalemate and an Iron Cross, someone must have stumbled on his applicant papers and, to his great relief, found himself in flight school.

His assignment to the squadron confirmed some suspicion of his long delay into flight training. Almost ALL the pilots in the unit were either of the aristocracy or other socially privileged classes.

His initial cold reactions to the friendly jibes of his fellow pilots didn't sit well with them, he thinking they were looking down on him. Any other emotionless ones over comrades fallen in combat left no room for endearment. An early incident involving an unconfirmed air victory and wasted resource in unsuccessfully confirming it left little doubt to them that Stachel was only out for himself and not the squadron.

The final cementing of their mutual hostility was his gunning down a surrendering enemy observation plane he was escorting in. His claim the rear gunner, unseen from the ground, was about to fire wasn't believed by most. Mentor/eyewitness pilot flying with him, Willi von Klugermann, and intervention from higher up the chain of command saved him from a courts martial.

Though vindicated, the damage was done. There was now little love lost between he and the rest of the unit.

As far as he was concerned, it was Bruno Stachel, the lowly commoner against the aristocratic elites. As further he was concerned, he would not only show he was just as good ... but better than any- ... ALL of them!

His rise came fast. In less than two months he racked up nine air victories. Ego in assurance if it wasn't for the assignment of so many necessary scouting and ground support missions he would have doubled that score.

As it was, he reluctantly resigned himself to the fact the rumors of the impending Empires' huge victory offensive were turning out to be true. The war was soon to be over and the coveted Poure' le Merite'/Blue Max medal of twenty air victories to be out of reach.

Inward cursing of himself and his plight didn't keep him from diligently checking his three dimensional surroundings while flying his ailing plane toward main base and possible repair or replace. The comparatively low altitude and attenuated performance of his craft made him a perfect sitting duck for any enemy plane happening along.

What did happen along at that moment ...

_What's ... THIS?_

Down at his eleven o'clock low, Stachel espied the lone hovering figure, statue still in the heavens, observing what looked to be a ground support operation much farther below.

_A mage? ... At about nine thousand ... Up this high? ... They usually start having trouble at about six thousand. How could-_

Another factor caught his sharp eyes attention.

Slightly above his eight o'clock level, two enemy planes evident and going into shallow dives toward the figure.

_They're gonna' jump him!_

_They don't see me ... Can't just let them- ... Small bank of cloud at nine o'clock ... If I go through it I can come out behind them an-_

Saving the mages' life wasn't even secondary on Stachels' mind. The chance of at least being a double ace at wars' end he wasn't going to pass up.

Shallow bank to the left and down, the pilot gunned the wheezing engine for what little left of its' worth.

xxxxx

_That's it ... closer you fools ..._

_You have no idea what's about to hit you, you-_

"Major!"

The familiar radioed voice of her adjutant almost breaking her concentration.

"I know they're there leutnant, just keep to your assignment."

"It's another plane ... At your five high."

_Another- ... Hell! ... Concentrating too much on ... But then ... another won't be any problem._

"It's one of ours!"

_One of- ... Partly why I didn't notice him earlier ... probably thinks he's helping me out but then-_

_Everything out here's up for grabs!_

Quick spin about, Major Tanya von Degurechaff raised her souvenir SIG for sighting in a quick three round burst then giving out a curse.

_Oh! ... DAMN!_

_Between them!_

xxxxx

_Oh! ... DAMN!_

_Between them!_

In coming out of the cloud bank Stachels' miscalculation and curse put him between the enemy planes front and back instead of behind both.

All the same not hesitating, he savagely pressed the joysticks' button sending a hail of lead into the one in front.

A hail of lead in turn sent from behind making his craft spout smoke.

"Aaaagh!"

Having past been wounded while an infantryman, his cry of pain over his affected left arm cut short. The last he noted before concentrating on getting himself and his stricken plane out of further harms' way was a trio of golden streaks going past to his rear.

xxxxx

In solemn quick prayer to the God denied, Tanya pressed the trigger sending the three rounds past the flaming enemy and smoking ally toward the third soon to be touched aircraft. Artillery spell imbuing the 9mm slugs with the power of HE 75s.

Third plane disintegrating in cloud of noxius fume, the major looked about for her would be rescuer.

_There! ... heading down ... tailspin, he's ... Got out of it! Just before he hit the ground too. Must be a better pilot than I gave him credit for._

_Too low to use his chute now ... No choice but to ride it down._

_Gotta' help ..._

The major dove toward the now in control smoking wreck in assist.

Whether she had needed the pilots' help or not or in actual danger or not, the pilot would think she did and was and came in to help.

And if it was one thing Tanya disliked more than anything in any world, it was having to owe someone something ... anything! Especially if it was a claim on her life, real or not.

_Help him out and let him call it even!_

xxxxx

Having just wrenched out of the tailspin, Stachel straightened his aircraft out.

_Losing power ... Find a place to land-_

_Supply column on that road ... can't use it ... next field over-_

Pilot pulling back on the stick, the plane lurched slowly up just barely clearing the stand of trees separating road from field.

_Damn field's too short! ... Gotta' clear that next stand of trees-_

Not looking as if he could accomplish the next hop over, Bruno pulled back as far as stick would go. That, sheer force of will and seemingly residual luck succeeded in only the planes' wheels brushing topmost branches.

Up and over, the expanse of long, wide and open greeted the pilots' eyes.

_Alright!_

_Now ... Set 'er down nice, easy and-_

_DAMN!_

xxxxx

_There ... He's down ... watch those ruts ..._

No sooner said ...

Collapse of left wheel and under carriage, the left wingtip gouged into the dirt sending the aircraft into a fishtail spin, plane coming to an abrupt halt and facing the way opposite it came.

_Gotta' get him out or-_

With a loud WUMP! the plane burst into flame.

xxxxx

Stachel finding himself instantly enveloped in flame.

_Oh God! ... Fire! ... Gotta' ... Can't ... try ... GET OUT! ..._

"YAAAAHHH!"

xxxxx

Still in a dive toward the inferno.

_Can't save him! ... Damn if I-_

_Wait! ... Strong magical signature-_

_Coming from ... HIM?_

The greenish blue glassine of a self generated protective shield about the figure rolling out of the blazing wreck in confirm and quickly vanishing as flames were cleared.

_Now why would a mage be serving in the Air Korp-_

_Unless ..._

xxxxx

In stagger up, Bruno stumbled as fast as shaky legs could carry him from the plane.

_Move ... MOVE!_

_Damn thing's gonna' blow any-_

Explosions' shock wave sent the man sailing.

In expectance of momentary impact of flesh meeting dirt, his surprise great on still finding himself ... sailing.

Feeling an incredibly strong tiny arm under his right armpit, Stachel looked to his immediate right, finding ...

"Hang on to your left arm." Tiny face intoning command. "There's an aid station not far from here. I'm taking you to it."

Though child mages in combat not unheard of, Stachel knew the number of which could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

And there was only one of whom was rumored to be in his squadrons' area of operations.

_Is this the one called Argent Silver? The so-called "Devil of the Rhine"?_

xxxxx

The two set down right next to a very surprised medical mage.

Letting go and stepping back, the Major returned the meds' salute, turned to Bruno and pointed.

"Name, rank, serial number and unit?"

"Stachel, Bruno. Unter-Leutnant. Serial number xxx-xx-xxxx. Eleventh Squadron."

"Your unit originally operated between Arras and St. Germaine, correct?"

"Yes Fraulein Major."

Tanya turning back to the med.

"Herr Leutnant, take GOOD care of this man."

Then back to Stachel.

"You and I are going to have a talk later.

"Until then ..."

More steps back, the tiny one rocketed up and off. Going into a steep sixty degree climb and was gone.

"Let's take a look at than arm Herr Leutnant."

xxxxx

"Uuurrgh!" Buno grunted as the medical mage finished the arm binding.

"You'll feel better in a few days Herr Leutnant."

Reports of a battery of 75s two hills away punctuated the almost festive atmosphere of the immediate area and the depressive one of the even more immediate one about Stachel.

For the past three hours the two way parade of supply lorries, prisoner columns and jubulant army personnel passed. Report and rumor of an enemy on the run and the nearing of the Francoise capitol by the Heer, rampant.

_My plane gone ... won't be able to fly for at least a week or so ... war about over ... maybe ... I-_

"We've taken Baupaume!" Ecstatic call by men in a passing lorry heading for the rear.

"Baupaume!" The medical mage in joyful response.

Turning to Stachel.

"Did you hear that? ... Baupaume! ... That's just outside Parisee!"

The med officer perplexed at the pilots' non-response.

_Good for you, no doubt ... War ends and you get to go into lucrative private practice if you want._

_Me ... It's back to working, assisting my father in taking care of a small inn._

_No future in that._

_No future in any-_

The pilot recognized the driver and lorry pulling in as from the 11th Squadron.

Stepping out, Corporal Rupp saluted and handed the papers to the med mage, the officer reading and nodding in return.

Facing the pilot as he was rising from the field chair, the corporal announced.

"Herr Leutnant, I have orders to take you back to the squadron."

About to climb into the cab ...

"No sir." The corporal correcting.

Puzzled, Stachel gave an inquiring cock of his head toward the corporal.

Pointing to the trucks' covered bed, "in there Herr Leutnant."

An even more puzzled officer.

"Someone to see you."

Walking back to the vehicles' rear, he pondered.

In the only other instance he could recall when a lorry was sent out to retrieve a downed pilot, Bruno remembered no one accompanying the driver.

_Now who would-_

"Here, let me help you up."

Figure grabbed the pilot by his right arm bringing him up into the lorrys' interior.

With its back to him, the figure sauntered over to some crates of tinned beef and set down on.

_Of all the people who might come out to see me after a downing, not even the last on my list would be-_

In lounge upon the crates, now with champagne glasses in left hand, an ornate silver ice bucket containing mandatory bottle in right ...

Mentor/chief antagonist, the very personification of all that Stachel despised in the aristocracy ...

And earner of the Pour le Merite/Blue Max ...

None other than His Arrogancy ...

Ober-Leutnant Wilhelm von Klugerman.

Bruno noting the extras.

"What are we celebrating?" Dubious.

Smirk on the officers' face. "Why your tenth victory of course ...

" ... And your survival."

Klugerman set the ice bucket down.

"You're moving up fast, Stachel."

"Too fast?"

Ignoring the question and a look at Brunos' bound arm.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yesss."

Klugerman proceeded in peeling the bottles' seal as the lorry began its return trip.

"Then I'd better open it."

Glasses on another crate, cork popped, von Klugerman poured.

"So tell me ... eh ... ," speculative grin on aristocrats' face, "Not having experienced the pleasure myself ... What does it feel like to be ... Shot down?"

"Well I ... ," wry grin and chuckle in return, "I'd rather you found that out for yourself."

Wry grin in return and a hum of a little tune, handing Stachel a glass, Willi raised his.

"Probst."

Both taking a sip.

"You know ... ," Willi began. "I was quite pleased at first when you were posted as missing ... I mean-"

"Oh thank you!" Stachel in sarcasm.

"Well ... It was just that ... uh ... all of a sudden the war seemed a bit more peaceful.

"And then ... This is the odd thing ... I had a sense of loss."

"Why," Stachels' sarcasm still in gear. "I'm touched-"

"No ... No seriously ... I suppose I've had everything in my life too easy ... I'm inclined to be lazy ...

"I have to have a challenge. I need someone about who is ... uh ... coming up from behind ... Who is ... eh ... Hard to beat.

"And you fulfill that role."

Taking a gulp, von Klugerman went for a refill.

"So when that mage and her adjutant literally dropped in with the good news ... well ... You can only imagine my elation at your having survived."

"Yes," Brunos' face darkening at the mention of, "THAT MAGE."

The facial expression not lost on Willi.

"She happens to be a relation of mine."

"Really."

_Wouldn't surprise me in the least!_

"Yes ... ," the aristocrat glancing upward then back at Bruno. "An uncle didn't approve of a favorite cousins' marriage and disowned her. Wanting to keep peace in the family, I and several others kept quiet about our attempts at support.

"The couple repeatedly refused any assistance. Even after her husbands' death she still wouldn't take anything. Her own later death came as a shock but an even bigger one was when we found she had given up their only child to an unspecified orphanage.

"We searched of course but ... Record keeping being what it was in those places and one female infant looking much the same as any other ... well ... Seems the records were misplaced and we didn't know any of her whereabouts until after she enlisted.

"Like her mother she won't accept any help at all ... Unlike her she does keep in touch ... Much to uncles' chagrin ... Even after having earned her Ritter title."

Leaning over, Willi refilled Brunos' glass.

"How's the countess?"

Distracted, von Klugerman overflowed Stachels' glass.

"The countess- ... Oh!"

Shaking the champagne drops off himself.

"Your aunt by marriage," Bruno in reminder. "Is she well?"

"I think so."

"I should have thought you'd have known," commoner in side reference to aristocrats' 'interesting' relationship.

"Ah yes," in acknowledgement. "She told me about her mistakenly coming into your barracks room before mine that night I was awarded the Max.

"I knew you'd have to bring it up sooner or later."

"Hmm ... The countess," Bruno building up with knowing smirk and gesture of dipping finger in glass and tasting it. "Now there's a fascinating subject."

"I believe you have aspirations in that direction, Stachel," the senior pilot in veiled warning. "You would do well to forget them."

"I'll try," mock solemnity apparent then spidery smile, "But if the impossible happens ...

"I'll buy you a bottle of champagne."

"Will you?"

In reach over von Klugerman lifted the bottle of fizz partway so Stachel could see the lable.

"It's Ling vintage nineteenhundredthirteen."

Then in acceptance of challenge and a thump of bottle back in bucket.

"You'll find it ... Hard to get."

"Nineteenhundredthirteen?" Bruno in taunting laugh and a sip. "I'll remember that."

Lorry rolled on.

xxxxx

Lorry pulled in to the makeshift landing field, Stachel getting out and calling back.

"Thanks for the champagne." Hitting the ground with a pained grunt in hold of his wrapped left arm.

Looking across the field he noted four figures with a small entourage in approach.

Rittmeister Otto Heidemann, a tiny blonde apparition in mage flight suit and gear, a two heads taller pretty eyed mage similarly clad and Ober-Leutnant Kettering, Heidemanns' adjutant.

Focusing on the second and muttering under his breath not caring that Willi heard.

"There's the damn fool that almost got me killed today."

"Why don't you take the matter up with her, if you like."

"Yeah ... right!"

"So, Stachel," Rittmeister Heidemann in greeting. "Back from the dead I see."

"Yes Herr Rittimeister."

"It seems," in continue, "a formal introduction is in order."

A glance at the diminutive one then back at Stachel.

"May I introduce ... Major von Degurechaff, commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion."

_So it really IS the "Butcher of Arene"!_

Stiffening up Stachel acknowledged.

"I'm honored Fraulein Major."

"And I'm quite grateful Herr Leutnant." She speaking in a tone less stern than a few hours past.

_Never thought I'd ever be saying THAT to anyone! Still, he was trying to help me out._

"It's good to see you haven't had to pay too high a price for my life."

"The only loss was an old Heinkel on its last legs, Fraulein Major. Hopefully I'll get a better plane."

"That may not be possible Herr Leutnant." Heidemann in interjection.

"I realize sir, planes are hard to come by at the moment and-"

"If things work out you will be flying again soon but not with a plane."

Bruno looked down at the speaker then at Heidemann and back again.

"I ... don't understand Fraulein Major."

"This damn fool," toothy knowing smile, "would like you to join the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion."

!?

"Oh ... Did I happen to mention," chimed in Willi also in toothy knowing smile, "that she has quite the keen sense of hearing?"

"NO ... ," Bruno in slight turn to him through embarrassment clenched teeth. "You didn't."

Reaching up and over, the tiny one still agrin, lifted the bottle of Ling '13 out of the ice bucket held by von Klugermann-

"Cousin Willi ... still scarfing Le' Swille' I see."

Then dropping the bottle back in with an audible splatter dampening the arms of both, subdued laughs from those all around but Stachel.

"Aunt Marg says you'll never change."

"With the passage of time I think you'll find the effect of alcohol more interesting than that of caffeine."

"I think I'll stay with being a slave to the bean," in retort.

Memories of mandatory salaryman drinking bouts from her previous Tokyo existence made Tanya thankful for laws against the dispensing of adult beverages to minors.

She noting Stachels' new level of tension.

"Rest easy Herr Leutnant. Negative opinions of me from those of lower rank bother me but little as long as one follows orders.

"Heh ... You should hear what some of my men say about me when they think I'm not around. Being vertically challenged has its advantages."

_Vertically ... challenged? ... Interesting way of putting it ... Why only this morning I was almost "terminally inconvenienced"!_

"I still don't understand Fraulien Major," his confusion now different. "I'm honored and flattered you would want me in your squadron but I fail to see how I would be of any use to the unit ... I'm not a mage and-"

"Actually you are."

Bruno looked to the more familiar Heidemann for clarification.

"The major has an interesting story to tell."

In turn back to von Degurechaff.

"As you know, I followed you down ... Amazing landing considering your aircraft wasn't up to the task ... When your plane burst into flames I had about given you up. It was then I detected an extremely strong magical signature.

"Coming from YOU."

"Me!? ... Don't see how that's possible ... As I said I'm no-"

"But you are ... That protective barrier about you as you rolled from the wreck confirmed ... And generating it without a computation jewel ... Impressive!"

"I can't recall anything like that ... I-"

"Look at you," the major pointing out. "Other than your combat wound there's no other injury. You're not even singed or have even a smell of smoke about you."

"Have you ever been tested Stachel?" Heidemann in query.

"When I enlisted, yes. Nothing positive came of it."

"It could be you are a latent." Von Degurechaff in speculation. "It happens there may be quite a few people who have magical potential but so submerged in their psychies it remains undetectable. Every so often it comes to the fore when an individual experiences an 'extraordinary emotional moment' as you must have had when your plane became engulfed in flames. Hence your momentary generation of that barrier without a jewel."

_"Vertically challenged" ... "Slave to the bean"? Now this "Extraordinary emo-" ... This "kid" sure has an interesting way with words ... Where does she get these terms?_

"Could it be you have been deliberately hiding it Stachel?" Von Klugermann in chiding. "There are penalties for not reporting and withholding such talents from the Fatherland."

"Oh come now Willi," the major to Brunos' defense. "Two years frontline service ... He didn't get that Iron Cross from a candy tin ... Nine .. no TEN aerial victories ... Herr Rittmeister told me one of them was even a mage ...

"If this is what one would call shirking ones' duty to the Fatherland, you have to admit ... It's certainly quite a unique way of doing it."

All laughing, including Willi.

"No," concluding von Degurechaff. "I think ... KNOW ... you're a latent. And your 'coming out' could be permanent. With luck, testing will show it."

_Coming ... out? ... Why does that have a bad sound to it?_

_Wait! ... Testing?_

"There's even a former latent in my unit and he's doing quite well."

"The papers are being drawn up for an immediate short working leave to Berun." Heidemann turned to his adjutant.

"I had the clerks working on them the moment after you gave the order. They should be done by now for you to sign," declared Kettering. "The orderlies are busy packing his things as we speak."

"Berun, I-"

"There, you will report to main branch for psychic testing. If all goes well ... " Heidemann looking to the major.

"If all goes well as I'm sure it will," von Degurechaff picking up, "You'll be transferred to Zugspitsche for aerial mage training.

"The stay should be quite short. Your experience from your frontline service should exempt you from most of the survival training.

"After which I'll personally see to it you're assigned to my unit."

"Again ... I'm honored you would consider me but ... the war and-"

"You are in no condition for the moment and at least for a week for ANY kind of flying." The Rittmeister stating. "And even then there may not be a plane available. As it is, Fourteenth Squadron is going to be temporarily merged with us.

"And then there's now the FACT the war may be winding down."

Heidemann looked about the gathering of now anxious looks and imparted the news that up to that moment only he, his adjutant and the two mages knew when notified by courier a quarter hour before.

"It has just come in. Our ground forces are in the very suburbs of Parisee and a cease fire has been called by both sides. We are to go on an observational patrol sortie in about half an hour."

"Cease fire?" Willi in mild malicious and directing the question toward Bruno. "It may well be your hopes in aquiring the Blue Max are in vain."

Bruno holding his temper in check in the presence of all.

"You never know Willi," Tanya again to Stachels' defense and in recollect of her past lifes' world history. "It's only a cease fire being called. Human nature being what it is and not all in any government and military being pragmatic as in ours.

"It's been a long and bloody fight. For all we know as of this moment ... The Francoise Republic may only be looking for a breather ... revanchist sentiment running high and ...

" ... other factors to consider ..."

Her voice trailing off. One of those other factors quite possibly Being X!

In the pause, Heidemann turned to-

"Corporal Rupp."

"Yes Herr Rittmeister!"

"Looks like you're going to have an easy day of it just driving about. You're to take Leutnant Stachel to the Pressy Station. They've just finished its repair."

Then looking directly at Stachel.

"Leutnant Stachel."

"Yes Herr Rittmeister."

"You should be gone by the time we get back. I don't expect to see you here when we return."

_You mean I'd better not be here when you return ... Fine by me!_

A small whispered exchange between von Degurechaff and her adjutant then the major looking up at Heidemann.

"Herr Rittmeister, my adjutant has just reminded me we may be overdue on our return.

"I must thank you for the coffee and informing me where to get that blend. Never tasted one quite like it."

Turning to Stachel.

_And of course warning me about this pilots' mind set ... But he might just be what I need for the unit._

"Herr Leutnant, we will be seeing each other soon.

"Until then."

A salute to Heidemann then to one and all, Major Tanya von Degurechaff and Visha pulled back a few steps and-

"Command tent, skies above clear?"

Affirmative answer received.

"Major von Degurechaff and adjutant taking off!"

Two figures immediately cloudbound then leveling off northwest.

Heidemann again looked about.

"As I said a moment ago. We're to be on an observational sortie in about-"

Quick look at watch.

"Now TWENTY minutes.

"SNAP TO IT!"

Men ascatter to planes and tents.

"I'm afraid," said von Klugermann, "that I won't be able to share the rest of this bottle with you ... Bruuno."

Stachel kept his glare in check at the hurrying away aristocrat mispronouncing his name.

"The shock of you being a possible mage well ... ," smiling and holding up the ice bucket, "I think I'm going to be needing the rest of it when I get back.

"Until then ..."

With a snort, double ace Unter-Leutnant Bruno Stachel stepped toward his own tent across the field.

_Alright ... Get my things ... Rupp takes me to the station ... Get to Berun for testing._

_Don't know how long it'll take ... Days at least, maybe ... Yes ... Days ..._

_Time enough for-_

_The countess ..._

_Yesss ..._

Now in lascivious grin.

_Mustn't forget the countess._

END

xxxxx

For those who have not seen WW1 era film, The Blue Max (20th Century Fox, 1966.), I strongly suggest you see it. George Peppard and Jeremy Kemp (Bruno Stachel and Willi von Klugermann respectively.) are great in it!

xxxxx

Storyline (only) copyright © 10-31-2019 C V Ford

Disclaimer: The preceding is a NON-PROFIT work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. I make no claim to ownership of the COPYRIGHTED names/characters, places and events mentioned in this work. They are the sole properties of their respective owners. Please, by all means support the owners of such properties in the purchase and enjoyment of their original works.


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